


Always an Inch from Death

by madelegg



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Beaches, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Sleepy Cuddles, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 10:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20777243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelegg/pseuds/madelegg
Summary: Mikhail (the son of Dimitri and Byleth) and Klaus (the son of Claude) have recently graduated from Garreg Mach Officer's Academy and Mikhail has been seeing the ghosts of those he has killed, just as his father once did. In an effort to help his son work through these issues, Dimitri takes Mikhail with him on missions across Faerghus, but Mikhail's condition only worsens when he is far from his lover, Klaus. In a desperate attempt to reunite, Mikhail escapes from his father's camp and runs away to Klaus's Almyran vacation home.





	Always an Inch from Death

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set about 18 years after the Five Years War, in an AU in which the Kingdom overtook the Empire, but the Alliance remained independent and allied with the Kingdom. It's all shameless fluff between some Fire Emblem kiddo OCs a friend and I came up with. Please be kind to our boys.

Mikhail did not look like the Prince of Faerghus, walking up the road to the Von Riegan family vacation home. Wearing dirty armor and wrinkled clothing, the young man looked homeless, like a vagrant or an army deserter. His armor was notably from the Holy Kingdom, but that was his only defining feature, aside from his reek from days of travel. His greasy hair hung in clumps and his eyes were darkened by heavy under-eye bags; since he had entered Almyra, people gave him a wide berth as he walked past.

This private road, however, was deserted. He had been told this was the path to Klaus’s home on the coast, which was information he’d paid for, so if it was false, he’d be out of money and time. With almost no money left, he knew he was coming dangerously close to starving to death before his father even found him.

But if he hadn’t made this journey, then Klaus would die, he was sure of it. Mikhail would never have run from his father if that was not the case.

He and Klaus had only been separated since graduation, just a few months ago, and they had written to each other as much as possible. It was through Klaus’s letters that he knew his lover was on vacation in Almyra with his family, and though his father had tried to keep him as busy as possible, not a day had passed since graduation that was not filled with plans to run away and find Klaus. 

Both King Dimitri and young Klaus were aware of Mikhail’s degrading mental state. Ever since the young prince found out about Klaus’s nearly fatal injury in his battle half a year ago, Mikhail could not sleep without seeing his lover’s guts spilling onto an empty field every time he closed his eyes. His hallucinations had only gotten worse since he’d returned home without Klaus as well. The men he’d killed during his time at Garreg Mach now wandered the palace in the place of servants, never speaking or doing anything, but always looking at him as he passed. He could not relax in his own home anymore. Even his room did not feel safe. Klaus was the only one who chased these ghosts away, and if he lost his dear one, then he would be consumed by them.

Dimitri recognized the symptoms; for the majority of his life, he too was plagued by the ghosts that followed his every movement: those of his father, his stepmother, his old friends, and the hundreds, if not thousands, he had slaughtered in the Five Years War. To see his son suffer anew from these same visions tore him apart; he could not fight these demons for Mikhail. All he could do was offer him time and parental support, the kind that late King Lambert had not been around to give him, and hope that would make the difference.

But his father’s support was not enough. Mikhail was unable to see how hard his father was trying to help him; he did not understand that his father had gone through the same thing and could help. All Mikhail knew was that when he was near Klaus, he was safe, and when Klaus was away, every passing second could spell the young Alliance heir’s death.

And so, when King Dimitri brought him to the edge of Alliance territory, Mikhail waited until his father slept in the tent they shared, stole gold from his coin purse, and snuck away unnoticed with nothing but his father’s money and his letters from Klaus, tucked away in his clothes.

Mikhail spent what little money he’d stolen from his father on carriage rides east. The rest was spent on food, which was kept to a bare minimum. If he was forced to travel on foot, then surely he’d never make it to Klaus before his father caught up to him, and King Dimitri would never give him another opening to escape again. So he traveled through the night, every night. If he slept, he did so in the quiet hours on the carriages he rented, and if he ate, it was only because it was something on the way or something given to him out of charity.

He never felt hungry anyway. The thought of food made him feel sick, his stomach constantly twisted with anxiety. He reread Klaus’s letters over and over again, but it never served to bring him peace. He knew that would not change until he had Klaus in his arms, and that spurred him onward when his body could not bear to take another step.

Mikhail didn’t know anything about Almyra other than what he’d read in books, and he certainly didn’t know how to navigate the country, so to find Klaus’s home was nothing short of a miracle. His mother had always told him Sothis watched over their family; Mikhail felt as though her hand was on his shoulder, pushing him ever forward until he reached the gates of Klaus’s Almyran home.

He looked ready to fall over as he approached the front gate, and the guards stopped him, looking at him with great suspicion. The only people who should have been approaching the vacation home of the Von Riegan family were servants returning with stock for the kitchen. To see a young man, caked in dirt and sweat, looking dead on his feet, was as unusual as it was concerning. 

“I’m looking for Klaus Von Riegan,” Mikhail said, attempting to muster up a bit of strength to his voice, but it came out hoarse anyway. 

The guards looked at each other. One jerked his head toward the house before looking back at Mikhail. The other guard opened the gate to hurry in and report what was going on.

“Who are you? What is your business with the Von Riegan family?” the remaining guard asked.

Mikhail tried to straighten up, but he felt like he was perpetually tipping to one side. “I am Mikhail Lambert Blaiddyd. I am here to see Klaus.”

The guard’s disbelief was plain on his face; there was no way this dirty soldier boy was in any way related to the Faerghus royal family. Not alone. Not all the way out here in Almyra. Was this some sort of joke?

“Boy, I don’t know who you are but-” the guard began, but was interrupted.

“Mika?” Klaus called and Mikhail looked up, seeing Klaus and his father rushing out of the vacation home. They were dressed casually, comfortably for the warm weather, in Almyran fashion.

The moment the guard turned to see where Klaus’s voice had come from, Mikhail pushed past him, sprinting toward Klaus. 

“My Lord!” the guard shouted, drawing his sword at the perceived threat, but Claude held a hand up, signaling the guards to stand down as Mikhail rushed into Klaus’s arms.

The young prince wrapped his lover in the tightest embrace he could manage, immediately losing his balance and leaning against Klaus. Klaus hugged him back, but his brows were knitted with distress. He looked at his father, who seemed to know as little as he did. Mikhail didn’t seemed too inclined to explain.

“Klaus, you are safe,” he murmured, eyes already wetting Klaus’s shoulder. “Thank the goddess…”

“I am safe, Mika,” he said gently, reaching up to stroke Mikhail’s stringy hair. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

He put Mikhail’s arm around his shoulders and dragged the prince inside as his father instructed the guards to return to their post. Mikhail leaned heavily on Klaus, sniffling, tears leaving tracks down his dirty face, still running on enough adrenaline to take the last few steps into Klaus’s home.

Inside, Klaus sat Mikhail down gently at the dining table and turned to go and get him some water, but Mikhail’s fingers clung to the young man’s shirt sleeve. Klaus looked back to see his lover’s red-ringed eyes, his fear clouded only by sheer exhaustion. Klaus turned around and gently hugged Mikhail’s head to his chest, looking up to make eye contact with his father as Claude reentered.

“Dad, could you get Mika some water? And perhaps some food as well.” He looked down at Mikhail. “When did you last eat, Mika?”

“Mmm… yesterday, maybe,” he said.

Klaus swallowed hard and Claude nodded, going into the kitchen for a glass of water and a plate of the leftovers from their lunch an hour ago. As the two young men waited for the leftovers to be reheated in the oven, Klaus moved to the chair beside Mikhail so he could look him in the eye. Mikhail’s hand still clung weakly to Klaus’s.

“Why are you here, Mika?” he asked. “Where’s your guard? Or your parents? I thought you would be in the kingdom palace right now.”

Mikhail looked down at their hands. “Father is… was on the Alliance border. He took me on a mission and I ran away.”

“You ran away? Why?” Klaus knew why; Mikhail’s reaction to seeing him had made that rather obvious, but he needed to hear it from the prince’s mouth.

Mikhail wouldn’t respond. Klaus sighed and rubbed the back of the prince’s hand with his thumb. He had thought that time apart would be better for Mikhail, that what he needed was time with his family, where his father could watch over him and work with him. He knew Mikhail would miss him; Klaus missed Mikhail too, but this was beyond that. Seeing the panic in Mikhail’s eyes turn to relief, his impulsive trek across the Alliance simply to confirm Klaus’s safety: this was clearly life or death to him.

Claude brought in a warm plate of chicken and seasoned rice and a glass of water and placed it in front of Mikhail, who stared at it a beat longer than normal before picking up his fork.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, bowing his head politely toward Claude before putting a piece of chicken gingerly into his mouth. Klaus rubbed his back.

Claude stood up and hovered, clearly having much to say but not wanting to say it in front of the distraught prince. He fiddled with the braid in his hair, looking around for things to occupy his hands while Mikhail ate his meal. Eventually, he left the room and went out to the front to question the guards about what they’d seen.

When Mikhail finished his food and drank all his water, his adrenaline had worn off and exhaustion all but claimed him. His head bobbed and his brows were knitted with the effort of keeping his eyes open. Klaus squeezed his hand.

“Come on, let’s go get you cleaned off and then you can sleep, okay?” he said, and Mikhail nodded, holding his lover’s hand to guide him through the hallways of his vacation home.

They entered into a grand bathroom, the inset bath nearly as large as the ones at Garreg Mach, with a sprawling mosaic sparkling under the surface of the water. Mikhail gazed at it, unable to appreciate its beauty to the fullest as his weary mind floated back and forth through degrees of consciousness. Klaus set about removing his armor, which was simple standard issue, thankfully not too complex, before peeling off his clothing beneath it, which was stiff and reeked of old sweat. When he stripped off the young man’s shirt, he saw a bundle of papers fall out. Mikhail blinked slowly at them and Klaus picked them up.

“Your letters,” Mikhail said softly, touching them. 

Klaus’s throat constricted and he nodded, tucking them away in his own pocket for safekeeping so he could give them back to Mikhail later.

He threw the clothes into a hamper near the door.

Once Mikhail was fully naked, Klaus guided him to the bath and held his arm tightly as he stepped in, ready to catch him if he slipped. Once the prince was seated at the bottom of the tub, Klaus brought over soaps and began to lather him up, starting with his greasy hair. In all the years Klaus had known him, he’d never seen Mikhail this dirty. The young prince took great pride and care in his appearance, and even on his hardest days in the monastery, Mikhail would still drag himself to the baths and to the dining hall unless he was physically incapable. This was unlike him, certainly, but that wasn’t the only thing. Running way from his father, trekking cross-country, assumedly in hired carriages, going to some place he’d never been before. It was so dangerous, so pointlessly risky. Had he even tried to solve this diplomatically? Had he even spoken to his father? His parents loved him deeply and only wanted to see him happy; surely there had been another way to solve whatever life-threatening problem Mikhail had constructed in his mind.

Klaus dumped a large glob of soap into his hair, scrubbing it deep into his scalp. He didn’t want to be angry at Mikhail; clearly his lover was not well, but fear flared Klaus’s temper and his fingers dug deep into the prince’s hair, more roughly than what was called for. Mikhail didn’t seem to notice.

Once his hair had been lathered up, Klaus left the soap in for a moment while he scrubbed down Mikhail’s body with a sponge, reaching deep into the water to get his stomach and legs. Mikhail moved a bit, trying to shift so Klaus could reach him easier, but he’d drifted in and out so many times already that he wasn’t always conscious to do so. When his body was adequately cleaned, Klaus used a cup to scoop and dump water gently over his soapy blond hair, which now glowed with its usual sheen.

Klaus patted Mikhail’s cheek lightly. “Hey, Mika, you awake?”

Mikhail opened his eyes. “Hm?”

“You’re all done. I’m going to take you to my room,” he said, and Mikhail nodded in agreement.

Klaus pulled him out of the tub and dried him off before wrapping him in a fluffy bathrobe and leading him out of the bathroom. Without any clothes of his own, Mikhail would have to wear whatever clothing of Klaus’s that he could fit in, but for now, fresh from the bath, he would be fine sleeping naked. The bathrobe was only to preserve his dignity if he passed by a servant or one of Klaus’s family members.

Moving through the hallways, Klaus pulled Mikhail into his room and shut the door quietly behind them. His bedroom was sprawling and grand, which was to be expected in a vacation home as luxurious as this one, though it was still smaller than either of their rooms back home. The bed and windows were draped in warm colors, the curtains drawn back to invite the afternoon sun into the room. Klaus sat Mikhail down on the bed so he could step away to close the curtains, dimming the room and cooling it down. Mikhail’s shoulders slumped forward, his breathing slow as he let his eyes drift shut again. They snapped open again when Klaus touched his face.

“Stand up, Mika, let me pull the covers back.”

Mikhail did as instructed and Klaus prepared the bed, helped him into it, and then pulled the covers back over his shoulders. Mikhail reached a hand up and Klaus took it.

“Don’t leave,” he said.

Klaus smiled; the look on Mikhail’s face reminded him of their schooldays, clinging to each other in their tiny dorm beds. Mikhail was always so dutiful when he woke and lax as he drifted off to sleep. They graduated such a short time ago, but it already felt like so much had changed.

“I won’t. Go to sleep.”

It didn’t take long for Mikhail’s breathing to even out as he fell into a deep sleep, and Klaus let go of his hand. If he woke up upset, Klaus would apologize, but Mikhail was safe now, he didn’t need to be watched. More importantly, Klaus needed to talk to his father. He left Mikhail quietly and found his father, who had returned to the dining room and was penning a letter. He looked up as Klaus walked in.

“Mikhail is asleep in my room,” Klaus said, then gestured to the letter. “Is that to His Majesty?”

Claude sighed and looked back at the letter, setting his quill down. “It will be if I can get a messenger who will deliver it. I have no idea if Dimitri knows Mikhail is here or not. I don’t know where he came from or how long he’s been traveling. We can only hope at least one of his parents is on their way.” He pushed his chair back and stretched his arms above his head. “How is he?”

“Exhausted. He was asleep through most of his bath, but he wasn’t injured in any way. I assume he will sleep for quite a while.”

“Good. Well, at least we can guarantee his safety here, for whatever that’s worth. Did he say anything to you about why he’s here?”

“No, but…” Klaus bit his lip, not wanting to betray his lover’s trust. He had sworn not to reveal his secret about the ghosts Mikhail saw, even if he believed his father could help. 

“Klaus.” Claude’s eyes bored into his son.

“He is not well. Ever since my… accident, he has feared for my life. To an unnatural extent. I spoke to His Majesty about it and there were plans in place to keep him safe at home, but… I suppose things did not go as smoothly as I expected.”

“Did he assume you were in danger? Did he know where we are?”

“I told him in my letters, which I know he received,” he said, absentmindedly touching where the letters rested in his pocket. “I… don’t think my location makes any difference. To him, I am always on the battlefield.” 

“I see,” Claude said, thinking. “Anything else?”

“Even if His Majesty comes to pick him up, I do not think Mikhail will leave willingly.” He said. “And I am a bit worried about what he might do if he is forced to leave. He… may be better off here with us than at home right now.”

“We will have to speak to Dimitri about that when he arrives then.”

Klaus nodded.

“All right. I will get this letter sent. Keep an eye on his Highness.”

“You don’t need to tell me that, old man.”

Claude smirked. “Of course not.”

His father turned back to his letter and began writing again, leaving Klaus to his own devices. Had this not happened, he would be out on the beach with his feet in the water, but he could not relax knowing his boyfriend slept alone in his bed, thinking Klaus to be nearby. He returned to his bedroom.

Mikhail still slept soundly, having not moved or even stirred while he was gone. The dim coolness of the room had a calming effect and Klaus felt that perhaps an afternoon nap was called for. Seeing his young prince curled under his covers made him long to press himself against Mikhail’s warm skin and he felt the pressure of loneliness weigh on his chest as he thought about how they could never return to their carefree school years. He felt perhaps it would be best to take what little time he could get, even with Mikhail in the state he was in.

He slowly disrobed, taking his own letters and placing them next to Mikhail on the bedside table, then draped his clothes over the end of the massive, four-poster bed. Pulling back the covers, he slipped into the bed beside his lover and fit himself against Mikhail’s chest. Mikhail murmured soft sounds and Klaus kissed his cheek. 

As Klaus thought about all the ways in which his lover could have died on his foolhardy trip, he gripped Mikhail tighter, and understood, even if only a little, the level of desperation that would have caused him to do something so drastic. If he knew Mikhail was in danger, he’d cross the Alliance on foot a thousand times before he let a single blade brush the soft skin of his lover.

***

Mikhail slept in Klaus’s bed through the rest of the day and night and did not wake until morning, opening his eyes to Klaus’s warm body draped over him. For the first time since he had graduated, the panic that always accompanied waking up was fully absent. He did not search his bed for Klaus, only to find him gone, hundreds of miles away, unreachable. His warm lover was pressed to him already, safe and well. Mikhail buried his face in Klaus’s hair and took a deep breath.

Klaus shifted a bit and opened his eyes. “Mm… Mika?”

“Good morning,” Mikhail said warmly.

Klaus put his hands on either side of Mikhail and pushed himself up a bit so they could see eye to eye. Mikhail sat up and pressed their lips together. Klaus leaned into it, closing his eyes. When they broke away and he opened them, Mikhail was beaming.

Klaus lowered himself back against Mikhail’s chest and nuzzled into his neck.

“How are you feeling?” Klaus asked, his voice barely a whisper between them.

“Much better now.”

“Good… Breakfast is probably ready by now.”

“Mm, may I hold you for a bit longer?”

Klaus smiled and kissed his neck in response, and Mikhail’s arms tightened around him.

When they did finally get out of bed, Klaus dug through his closet to find something that would fit Mikhail. He was built taller and broader than Klaus, much like His Majesty, so none of his shirts would fit properly. Luckily, he had several pairs of pants with wide waistbands with adjustable straps, which could fit Mikhail fine. Until they could get him new shirts from the market, Mikhail had to settle on a long vest, which could not close in the front. Considering the warmth of Almyra, this breezy outfit suited Mikhail just fine. 

Breakfast had been laid out in the kitchen for them to take and eat it wherever they pleased, and Klaus brought Mikhail outside to where the back of their vacation home met the ocean. He sat down on the steps that met the ocean and put his feet in the water and his plate in his lap. He patted the spot next to him and Mikhail followed suit.

All through breakfast, they said nothing, the sounds of them eating washed out by the crashing waves. Mikhail finished first, his appetite freshly restored now that he was with Klaus again, and he leaned against his lover, resting his head on his shoulder. His bed head, fluffy and soft but untamed after the previous day’s bath, tickled Klaus’s cheek and he reached around to stroke it out of his face.

“Mikhail,” he said. “Why did you come here?”  


Mikhail was silent, looking down at the light waves lapping at their ankles. Klaus continued to comb his fingers through the prince’s hair.

“I could not be away from you,” he finally said, as if that explained anything.

“Was it the ghosts?” he asked, his voice a whisper, though there was no one else around them.

Mikhail hesitated before responding. “They fill the palace now. But it is not just them.”

“What is it then?”

Mikhail reached over and gently touched Klaus’s stomach, right on the deep scar across his abdomen.

“Whenever I close my eyes, you are on the battlefield. And I see this open over and over and over again.” His eyes went glossy with tears. “I tried, Klaus. I tried to remain home. I read your letters over and over again and I thought maybe I would be okay until I visited, but I could not do it.”

Klaus set his plate off to the side so he could hold Mikhail’s hand, squeezing it tightly, and Mikhail put his forehead against his lover’s shoulder, shoulders shaking with sobs.

“I am so sorry,” he choked. “I-I know I’ve done something awful a-and you have every right to be angry with me, but I hope you can forgive me, Klaus… I could not see any other way.”

Klaus slowly slid his arms around Mikhail’s waist, pulling him in and holding him tight as he cried. He was angry, certainly, how could he not be? But to know Mikhail was so desperate, and to know that he was fully aware of what he had done, it was difficult to stay mad at him. 

“Please don’t tell your father… or mine,” Mikhail begged softly and Klaus frowned.

“Why? Your father should know; he can help you, Mika.”

Mikhail pressed himself harder to Klaus in protest. “He knows enough about my failings. I do not want to give him any more reason to think me unfit to rule as future king.”

Klaus reached up and stroked his hair. “Did he say that to you? That you were unfit?”

Mikhail hesitated. “No, but the way he looks at me… I am such a disappointment to him. Please, Klaus, promise me you will keep this to yourself. I am begging you.”

“I do not approve of this,” Klaus said. “But I promise, on the condition that I will keep encouraging you to tell him.”

“Mmm…” Mikhail murmured, not liking the arrangement, but having no choice but to accept. At least he knew Klaus would keep his word, though he didn’t know how long he could hold out against his lover’s convincing. He didn’t want to think about it.

Klaus combed his fingers through Mikhail’s hair, which was longer than it had been when they graduated. He kissed the top of his head.

“You should know my father has already sent word to your father about your whereabouts. I’m sure it won’t be long until he finds you.”

“Yes,” Mikhail said. “I assumed as much.”

“He may take you back home immediately.”

Mikhail’s grip tightened; clearly that was not a scenario he could handle thinking about, so Klaus dropped it for the time being. Besides, it was only a matter of time before the King showed up at their door anyway, whether Mikhail liked it or not.

In fact, it took less than 24 hours after Mikhail’s arrival for King Dimitri to locate his son.

They didn’t even make it to lunch before the King and his guard arrived at the vacation home, terrifying the guards at the gate once again. They begged for His Majesty to wait while they called out the head of the household, and thankfully Claude went out to meet him before Dimitri caused too much of a fuss.

“Claude!” the King of Faerghus called, his voice booming. “Where is my son? Is he safe?”

Claude ran up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to invite him in. “He’s safe, your Majesty. He and Klaus are in the back. Come.”

He guided Dimitri to the back, leaving the guard outside, the King’s heavy armor clanking as he stomped through the house. In the back, Klaus was floating in the ocean, arms splayed out as the waves rocked his body, and Mikhail watched from shore. They had been talking before the stomp of Dimitri’s boots shut them both up. Mikhail stood and turned around, going pale in the face of his father.

“Mikhail!” Dimitri shouted, running for him and gathering him up in a spine-popping hug. Mikhail grunted in pain as his father’s eyes filled with tears. “Mikhail, my son, you are safe…” He loosened his grip a bit and Mikhail hugged his father back, his teeth gritted as guilt overwhelmed him.

“I am fine, father,” he murmured, unable to meet his gaze as Dimitri let go and straightened up to look at his son.

“There is truly no punishment that I can give you that will adequately atone for the recklessness of your behavior,” he said, his tone shifting, though his eye was still tinged with red. “You could have been died simply out of foolishness, if you not been assassinated or taken captive. You could have caught a disease! An infection! You could have easily been lost in the wilderness of the Alliance or Almyra with no way for us to find you! If anyone found out who you were, you could have easily been held for ransom or killed by old Empire supporters. You did not spend three years in Garreg Mach just to remain unaware of the tenuousness of Kingdom politics and I am beyond disappointed in your actions.”

By this time, Klaus had brought himself to shore, standing nearby Mikhail, his toes gripping the sand as he watched his lover be ruthlessly lectured. Claude walked over to him and placed his hand on his son’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“If your mother were here, she would string you up by your waistband and beat you senseless, and frankly, she still might after I write to her, so you should count yourself fortunate that I am the one here to pick you up.” He crossed his arms and sighed, waiting a beat for Mikhail to respond, and when he didn’t, he reached down and grabbed his son by the chin and forced him to face forward.

“Look at me, Mikhail. What do you have to say for yourself?”

The thick tears in Mikhail’s eyes spilled over and he reached up to wipe them away, but they kept pouring. He sniffled, whimpering softly, and tried to keep eye contact with his father, but had to duck his head, wiping his eyes over and over again.

Dimitri gently pulled him close as Mikhail wailed, his body shaking with the force of his cries. With his arms tight around him, the King rocked slowly back and forth, rocking him like he had a thousand times before, from the day he was born through every hardship his boy had faced. Dimitri would do anything to lift some of the weight that his son was feeling right now, but he knew he could do nothing but be there for him, and that was not enough. He would have to work harder than that to give Mikhail some peace.

He let go of his son and looked at Claude and Klaus, a hand still on Mikhail’s shoulder, the prince’s head bowed.

“Claude, if it is not too much trouble, I would like to have a private talk with my son. Is there a room we could borrow for a bit?”

Claude stepped away from Klaus. “Of course, follow me,” he said guiding them back into the house.

Mikhail gave a longing look to Klaus as he followed his father inside and Klaus could only stand and watch from the shore.

Claude led them both into a private sitting room and let them know if they were still talking in an hour, he’d have lunch sent in for them. Dimitri nodded and thanked him, giving Claude a firm handshake with a promise to talk more later before Claude left the two of them in privacy.

Dimitri sat down heavily in the middle of a sofa and Mikhail sat across from him, his knees together and head down, nervously awaiting what his father had to talk about. Dimitri leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees and staring at Mikhail.

“So, are you going to tell me why you did it?” he finally asked. “I know this is not just about missing Klaus. You have not been yourself for quite a while now. Talk to me, Mikhail, please.”

Mikhail squirmed in his seat, wringing his hands between his knees. Dimitri pressed further.

“I know you have been struggling since Klaus’s… no, since that civil skirmish your second year. And Klaus’s injury only made things harder on you. Yet you barely speak to me now. Please, Mikhail, I am your father; I want to help you, but I cannot do anything unless you talk to me.”

Mikhail gritted his teeth, his eyes burning red as he felt himself giving in. He knew his father would sit here and push him until he caved, and he was not like Klaus. He could never keep his mouth shut.

“Father…” he murmured, and Dimitri leaned forward, his brows twisted with concern. “I… I can’t… I know this won’t make sense…” He struggled to find the right words. “When I am not with Klaus, he… he could be seconds from death. Anyone near him… all they have to do is flash a knife and he…” He choked down a sob. “Our bodies are so fragile.” His voice was barely a whisper. “And if I am not there to protect him, I cannot assume he is ever safe.”

He put his face in his hands to hide his tears, his shoulders shaking. Dimitri stood up and walked around to him, sitting down beside his son and pulling him into his arms. His own throat constricted; to see his son like this was not easy, but this was not a burden he was able to take from him despite how much he wanted to. He stroked Mikhail’s soft hair as he cried.

“Klaus is a strong young warrior,” he said softly. “Can he not defend himself?”

Mikhail shook his head. “He cannot be perfect,” he murmured. “It only takes one mistake.”

“His father then? Claude is always by his side and has been through far worse during the Five Years War. Is he not capable?”

Mikhail tensed, knowing he was a fool to have admitted his feelings to his father. “I… do not think them to be incapable. It’s just… it’s a foolish thought.”

Dimitri sighed and straightened up, wiping the tears from his son’s cheek. His voice was gentle. “I was not trying to chastise you for foolish thoughts. I understand how difficult it is to fear for those who are far from you; I worry about your mother, your sisters, you; every moment you are away, I am terrified you are in danger and I am not there to protect you. It takes great strength to place trust in those you love to stay safe, and sometimes it is not possible. You are not a fool to worry about the safety of those you love; you are a good man. Do you understand?”

Mikhail nodded, though he wasn’t sure if it really mattered. 

“But you cannot let it consume you. Not to the point where you will not talk to me anymore. Perhaps you felt there was no other option, but you did not even try to speak to me. I did not intend to keep you from Klaus indefinitely.” Dimitri sighed. “But the past is the past. In the future, when you feel such desperation, will you swear to speak with me first?”

Mikhail swallowed hard and nodded. Despite how much he had tried to handle this on his own, to feel his father offer his help brought far more relief than guilt. Dimitri pulled him into a tight hug and kissed his head.

“I love you, Mikhail. Please never doubt that.”

“I love you too,” Mikhail whispered.

For a moment, Mikhail felt the weightlessness of childhood as he dropped his burdens on his father’s shoulders. When his father’s arms pulled away, surely he would return to his struggle, but for now, all of his fears evaporated. Truly no hardships could be so heavy that his father’s strong arms could not lift them.

Dimitri wiped his son’s tears for the last time as they finally dried up and smiled at him. “Now, I will need to discuss this with Claude, but perhaps we can have you stay with the Von Riegan house for a while.”

Mikhail’s eyes lit up with hope at his father’s words. Dimitri continued.

“Garreg Mach can only teach you so much about the Alliance, after all, and knowing the Alliance’s politics more intimately will only help keep Kingdom and Alliance relations strong when you ascend the throne.”

“Really?” Mikhail was shocked; he was sure after this conversation, his father would be prepping him to leave.

Dimitri smiled and ruffled his hair. “We will see. Ultimately it is up to Claude, but I find that the Blaiddyd line has a history of being rather convincing.” Mikhail laughed weakly at his father’s terrible joke and Dimitri stood up. “We will see how things go. For now, how about you go find Klaus? I am sure he misses you.”

Mikhail nodded and stood up, giving his father one last quick hug.

“Thank you for listening,” he mumbled. “Even if I did not deserve it.”

Dimitri smirked. “Chin up, son. We will never be deserving. But I will always listen.”


End file.
